Bad Influence
by Nocturnal Smile
Summary: Or, Five Times Hiruma was a bad influence and didn't know it, and the one time he did.  Naturally, this is crack.  The rating is for the swearing.


Or, Five Times Hiruma was a bad influence and didn't know it, and the one time he did. I apologize for the crack. Nah, I'm actually too amused to feel sorry. Just enjoy and keep the brain bleach handy, it should all turn out fine.

I'd warn about some people being OOC, but seeing how it's sort of the point, I don't know why it needs a warning. I tried to keep them mostly in character with a few changes they wouldn't usually act out thanks to everyone's favorite maniac. I hope I succeeded.

Also, this site is still eating my punctuation, so if it seems like something's missing, let me know? I don't really know how to fix this.

Edit: Thank you Ayla the Librarian for the help! Could have sworn I saw it written the other way, but I checked Wikipedia and what do you know, you're right. XD Thanks for taking the time to correct that!

Disclaimer: If I owned it, Sena would be as well known for his running ability as for his harem of athletic high school boys. And girls. Sometimes. Depends on my mood.

* * *

**5. Mamori:**

This wasn't her fault. They had called out to her first, gazing into the depths of her soul and seeing the emptiness there, claiming they could fill it, whispering sugary sweet promises of bliss and heaven. Eternal ecstasy within reach!

Plus the creampuffs were on sale. How was a girl like Mamori supposed to resist temptation like that? She was a student, not a saint.

It had started off innocently enough:

"Good morning! Would you mind if I chose my own creampuff?"

"Of course not! Please, be my guest."

Mamori's eyes sharpened through the powers of… something that let her instinctively know which creampuff had more cream. Whatever, as long as it made her happy. Which it does, so all's good. Unless that blond demon shows up. Mamori frowned lightly at the thought of Hiruma as she selected her dessert.

Her phone went off right at that moment, and she was sure there was some saying that was perfect for this situation as she saw who it was on the caller ID- right, speak of the Devil and he will appear. "Hiruma, good morning. Was there something you needed?" One short conversation (filled to the brim with demands, insults, and plans, as per usual) later, and her creampuff had been bagged and… ready to go? Why was the clerk staring at her in abject terror, as if she were a clown?

What? She didn't like clowns. They were creepy. No one should smile that much.

Anyways, the clerk was staring at her in horror. "Is… everything okay?" she asked tentatively.

The question seemed to snap him out of whatever trance he had been in. He tugged on the collar of his uniform shirt and chuckled nervously. "You- you didn't mean Hiruma, as in Hiruma the demonic high schooler, right? Right?"

Mamori blinked. It figured that his influence reached even this far. "Er, yes, I did. We're in the same club, I'm the manager-"

The clerk interrupted her with what had to be the most unmanly squeal she had ever heard. She was friends with Sena; she knew what she was talking about when it came to unmanly squeals. "Here! Take it, all of it! Just please, tell him not to tell anyone about- um, I'll do whatever he wants!" The half-sobbing man shoved their entire stock of creampuffs into Mamori's arms.

A wave of guilt passed through Mamori, and she felt the urge to correct this poor man's misconceptions about her and Hiruma.

That lasted for about 10 seconds. All these creampuffs for free? Score!

It only made sense, Mamori rationalized. After all the stuff she had to put up with because of the blond bully, karma dictated she should get something in return. Like a thousand free cream puffs, though what the man had offered would suffice.

"Thank-you-see-you-tomorrow-bye!" Mamori dashed out the store before he could change his mind, treasure clutched to her chest. She decided no one needed to know about this. Ever.

Least of all the blond devil who made it possible.

* * *

**4. Jyuumonji:**

It had been too long since they had last done this, just the three of them, riding their bikes down the streets they had fought to claim in their days as delinquents. There had been nothing as exciting as a fight in those days, nothing that could better prove to themselves that they were alive, though now they had an even better rush.

Football had changed so much. It was different now, not riding to look for a fight but for the sake of riding. Kuroki and Togano were on either side of him, the same exhilaration plain on their faces (more so on Kuroki's than Togano's, Togano's glasses covered up most of his face, after all). Togano's might have had more to do with the new issue of Shonen Jump in his back pocket, however. It was just an unfortunate fact of life that good things never lasted.

Another gang caught up to them, and then it was a whirlwind of fists, of jumping off still moving bikes to get in another hit, adrenaline, bloodied knuckles. Of discovering just how much being linemen had helped their bodies and their stamina. Taking out these punks was ridiculously easy.

Then their reinforcements showed up. All 26 of them. Shit.

With knives and metal bats. Double shit.

And their leader was the same bastard who'd given Jyuumonji the horizontal line of his scar. Triple shi- seriously? Togano looked up at the sky. Had they pissed off some deity up there or what? Then he remembered that by joining the Deimon High Football club, he had essentially sold his soul to the Devil, i.e. Hiruma. So yeah, they sort of had. Gods tended to not like devils and people who sold their souls away to them. Fuck.

The rival gang's leader was known among the gangs and feared for his massive intellect. "Well, well, if it isn't the Deimon _Losers_. I'm surprised you babies aren't home with your mommas!" Truly, that biting and completely unique insult undeniably displays his powers of creativity and wit. "Haha, but I can understand why you aren't at home with your mom, because I was there instead! Y'know. With your mom." The muses surely wept with envy at hearing him speak. "Doin' her." Hark, he speaks with an angel's arcane knowledge!

This man's name is Daisuke Sayonara, surely not named for the reason that he's a one time character with a flimsy background story thrown in for drama and will not be returning after his abrupt goodbye. That would be silly.

"Haaa!"

"Haaaaa!"

"HAAAAA!"

With their trademark of the way, the Ha-ha Brothers readied themselves for war. They wouldn't go down easily, they- Jyuumonji had an idea. The blond stopped short, Togano and Kuroki following suit, glancing at him questioningly, but never fully taking their eyes off the enemy. They hadn't grown up through street battle after street battle with nothing to show for it.

Jyuumonji took in the situation. Before he had been blackmailed into joining the American football team, he would have leapt into the fray, consequences be damned. But now… Now, he was a little smarter in how to fight. Strategy was actually important. And he couldn't help but think, what would Hiruma do if he were in this mess?

Blackmail everyone there like crazy.

Yeah, that answer was obvious, but none too helpful. Unless…

"Daisuke Sayonara. I'm surprised you'd even show your face around here." Jyuumonji spoke confidently, drawling it out and trying to sound as condescending as possible. He succeeded.

Daisuke's face morphed into a sneer, which actually suited his face (he practiced in the mirror at home until he got it right, which a certain quarterback was well aware of). "What's the supposed to mean, you damn Yankee?"

"I heard what happened last winter," Jyuumonji continued, wondering if this would actually work. Kuroki looked confused, Togano like he was trying to figure out if his friend had been replaced by an alien (Jyuumonji would really have to start teaching him the difference between manga and what everyone else calls "reality"), but both looked ready to back him up at a moment's notice.

To everyone's surprise, Sayonara hesitated. "No- no one could have found out about that!"

Jyuumonji grinned, more a baring of fangs than anything else. "You really thought no one would squeal? The best part about this is that I'm not the only one who knows, and that other person? Well, let's just say if something happens to the three of us, we won't be the only ones in on your little secret."

Sayonara gulped. "Yeah, well, you aren't worth it anyways!" He rode out on his motorcycle, his gang, mostly confused, following. "We'll get you for this!" "Yeah!"

Kuroki showed them the bird.

The Ha-ha Brothers blinked. Was it honestly that easy?

It was.

No wonder Hiruma found it so simple to build his evil empire (and there was something Jyuumonji really didn't want to think about). The three brothers who weren't really brothers looked at each other, picked up their bikes and dusted them off.

"Anyone want to grab a soda?"

* * *

**3. Yukimitsu:**

"Class? Class, settle down." Yukimitsu, "affectionately" dubbed Baldy by the Deimon Devil Bats' quarterback, was attempting to quiet the class down enough so he could make an announcement and be done with it. Attempting there being the key word.

His classmates continued to chatter over him, more interested in plans for the weekend, Chika's new cell phone, Ayumu's new girlfriend (what a total tramp, I'm _such_ a better match for him), Sakuraba, girls, the best way to summon Cthulhu to the mortal plane, the most recent issue of that one magazine, and like, those cheerleaders? well, I heard from a friend who knows someone whose cousin's pet dog's aunt said blah blah blah Yukimitsu really didn't care.

This was only idle gossip, it wasn't important. Not like the future he had built for himself that didn't rely solely on book smarts (thank goodness). Not like football.

He wanted to go outside and practice. Yukimitsu only needed to get this said, then he could leave. "Since you all elected me as your class representative," which basically meant no one else wanted the job and everyone had no qualms about foisting it off on Yukimitsu, "I need to tell you-"

This wasn't any good. No one was listening. How could he get their attention?

It took him all of ten seconds to figure it out. He was slightly embarrassed that it had taken that long.

"Ah, Hiruma, what are you doing here?" Yukimitsu fibbed, not even bothering to raise his voice.

The classroom went eerily quiet, as if the voices of a bunch of teenagers had all suddenly been silenced.

Yukimitsu smiled warmly at the horrorstruck faces of his classmates. "Now that I have your attention…"

Goodness that was easy. He should invoke the true name of Satan, er, use that trick more often.

* * *

**2. Suzuna:**

"Mmph mmm!" Sakuraba tried to yell.

Suzuna looked at him, instantly contrite and sympathetic. "I know it's uncomfortable, but c'mon, you can bear with it for just a little longer, okay?" She was not, however, contrite or sympathetic enough to actually consider letting him go.

Sakuraba glared at her, trying to spit out pleas or insults. It was hard to tell which was which with the gag in the way. The cheerleader gave a little tug on the ropes binding Sakuraba, making sure they were still tight. They were, of course, she was good at tying ropes. Practice makes perfect!

She readied her camera. Click. Sure, the receiver might hate her after all these photos of him in bondage clothes hit the streets (and worse, the palms of his many fangirls), but the Deimon Devil Bats were going to be rolling around in riches by the time she was done, and more importantly, _she_ was going to be rolling in riches. Yo-nii would be proud.

The way she and the aforementioned receiver got into this situation is better left unsaid. Really.

* * *

**1. Sena:**

Sena had almost forgotten what this was like. To be perfectly honest, he had been fine with that. Completely fine with it. In fact, he was so fine with it, he wished he had never been reminded of this feeling.

The feeling in question? The trapped mouse feeling when about four of your old middle school tormentors find you in a moment of distraction (it was a perfectly legitimate reason, there was a new article about Shin and another about his own team!) and decide to relive the past.

"Sena, go grab us some food." One of the boys sneered. The 'or else' was mutually understood. He was backed against the wall of a secluded alley, and they were standing too tightly together for him to have an escape route. He really wished he had someone here as a blocker, then it would have been a cinch to get past these guys!

"Erm…" He declined tactfully.

"You aren't thinking of saying no, are you Sena? Not to your old pals like us?" His "old pal" pulled out a set of metal nun chucks and began spinning them expertly.

Sena blinked. "When did you learn how to use nun chucks?"

The men growled. "Stop changing the subject and get out there!"

Sena almost considered obeying. Almost. But he had been through the Death March, survived poundings from near super-human opponents, and most astonishing, he had survived Hiruma. He hadn't suffered through all of that just to go back to being the weakling he had been before. He tilted his chin up to look his attackers in the eye (sometimes he hated being short). "No."

"Is that so? I guess we'll just leave you alone then and never bother you again," the ringleader said with false sincerity. Then he sneered. "Not! You two, break his legs. Thinks he's so uppity just because he's famous now, we'll show him."

Sena paled. His legs? Not good. Really not good. What would he so if couldn't run? No. No, no, NOOO!

"Got quite the voice on you, don't you? But no one can hear you, and even if they could, it's not like they'd care." Had he shouted that last one out loud? He couldn't tell, he needed to get away, he knew he was panicking, but not his legs! How could he help Hiruma, Monta, Kurita, everyone achieve their dream of reaching the Christmas Bowl if he couldn't run?

Then, Sena saw his guardian angel. Sort of. He knew the guy, that had to count for something. He'd take what he could get.

"Agon!" Sena could barely make out the dreads from his vantage point. "Help me!"

Agon, who had only been planning on taking this alley as a shortcut to the girl of the day's house, stopped and scowled derisively. "Trash! Why should I help you? Figure it out yourself." He almost continued walking, but Sena managed to stop him.

It all boiled down to this: there had been a celebration, there had been alcohol, there had been a dare from Monta, and Sena had screwed up the courage to do one thing he had never before had the guts to do. He snuck a peek at Hiruma's Devil Book. It was as frightening as he thought it would be. There was one particular entry that had caught his attention though, titled "Fucking Dreads." "Fucking Dreads," who Sena desperately hoped was Agon (though who else could it be?) had a secret weakness.

Sena's eyes gained a sheen of tears, making them look bigger and more innocent, and his lower lip may have trembled. Not overdramatically, but enough to be noticeable.

"Trash…" Agon started slowly. "You had better not be about to do what I think you're about to do."

Sena sniffled convincingly. "Agon…"

"Don't. You. Dare."

Sena most certainly did not whimper pathetically. He'd deny it to anyone who asked. He hoped he'd be able to get out of this with at least _some_ shreds of his dignity, though he wasn't all that optimistic about it.

"Fine! But don't you dare start crying! I hate crying!"

_Yeah, I know._

In fact, Agon absolutely **despised** crying. Especially when it was trash doing it. All that blubbering and whimpering and snot-nosed mess, it was just- ugh. So gross. Right when he thought trash couldn't get any trashier, it did. Then they would start stuttering incoherently, and as if it wasn't bad hearing trash talk before, now he had to wait twice as long for them to get the fucking word out. Fucking trash. And they always said the same things too when they were crying like the trash they are. Agon, don't hurt me anymore, or Agon, please, why aren't you dating me anymore?. Wah wah wah. He hated their stupid trash tears. No wonder they were trash, carrying on like that. Trash.

Somewhere on the legal and therefore more boring side of town, Unsui was hit with the compelling urge to buy his brother a thesaurus.

Sena's would-be attackers looked confused. The exchange had taken all of a minute, and they weren't exactly sure what was going on. Plus, there was only one other guy (Sena did not count), and they were armed. They had nun chucks, for crying out loud. Those were like, badass or something.

Agon wiped the floor with them. The fight didn't even last a full thirty seconds. Then he stole their nun chucks just to spite them, but mostly because he was Agon and Agon was kind of a jerk like that.

Sena looked up at his former opponent gratefully and started speaking so fast his words ran together. "Thank you for saving me, I don't know how I can repay you, sorry for being such a bother and sorry for…" There was much bowing involved. What was not involved was any trace of tears.

Agon noticed this immediately (light-speed reactions count for something, after all). "You're not crying."

"I'm sorry!"

Agon scowled. "Did that trash tell you?" Unsui's urge grew stronger. Maybe there was a sale going on? "I'll kill him!"

"Hieeeeeee! Please don't do that! He doesn't know I know you don't like-"

"And no one else will. Ever."

Sena nodded so rapidly it looked like his head was going to come off. Agon took a step closer and looked down his nose at Sena. Sena had the sudden flash of insight that he might have hastily gotten rid of some aggressors only to replace them with something far worse. He gulped. Agon looked menacing. Sena looked he might really start crying this time. Agon still looked menacing.

The dread head sighed irritably and put a hand through his hair. "I hate to say it, but that was decent acting. For trash that is." No, he did not have a soft spot for the Shrimp Trash. He was in a good mood, not least because he had just beaten the ever-loving crap out of four strangers and could scare another with his mere presence. Endorphins, and all that jazz.

Not to mention he had new nun chucks!

"Th-thank you." Sena couldn't quite meet his eyes.

"If you ever do that again, you're dead. Understand?"

"Yes!"

They started walking out of the alley, belatedly realizing they were heading in the same direction. Sena was curious about something, but was afraid to bring it up. Agon probably wouldn't react well, especially considering what had just happened.

"Agon, there was something I wanted to ask you about Hiruma." Oops. Now how did that slip out?

* * *

**+1. Hiruma:**

The term "bat-shit insane" had not been properly defined until Hiruma first stepped into the world. Ask anyone, they'd all agree. No sane person would do the things Hiruma did.

Aside from the obvious, one such thing was hiding his birthday. Really, who did that? Isn't the main point of a birthday to get a bunch of friends and family to give you lots and lots of tribute? Well, that was how the Deimon American Football team thought it would go until they realized that no one actually knew when the demon's birthday was. Drastic measures would have to be taken.

* * *

Hiruma walked into the clubhouse for an early morning practice and was shocked to see that everyone was there before him. The shock was displayed in the way his bubble popped louder than usual. Other than that, he looked like his usual indifferent self, which was his default expression when not being a maniac. He didn't look indifferent all that often.

"What the fuck is going on here?"

There was a red box sitting on the table. It had a bow on top. Hiruma eyed it warily and cocked his gun. What the fuck were those idiots thinking?

"Happy Birthday (MAX)!" his team exclaimed. Birthday? No way. Impossible. How could they have known?

"We were going to shout surprise," Sena explained nervously, rubbing the back of his neck, "but we were afraid you might shoot us." What made him think he still wouldn't?

The Ha-ha brothers sneered. "Yeah, we were surprised when we found out that you were actually born, not spawned," quipped Fish Lips.

"We found out the date through a lot of hard work, MAX!" The fucking monkey.

That was true. It had taken the efforts of the entire team, late night phone calls from payphones so they didn't have to worry about their phones being tapped (there had been one incident and everyone had been paranoid about their phone conversations since then, okay? No one wanted to talk about it.), Togano's drawing ability, 5 pounds of shoelaces, some things Sena wasn't sure would ever make him stop feeling filthy, chocolate, copies of Sakuraba photos courtesy of Suzuna, and a tricycle. In the end, their efforts had paid off. They now knew Hiruma's birthday!

Moving slowly, still in shock, Hiruma pulled the top off the box. Inside was a sugar-free mint chocolate chip ice cream cake. Huh. Hiruma could barely believe they had actually managed to find this out.

He'd forgive them for it. This time.

The cake was delicious. Hiruma was the only one who knew that from firsthand experience though, because like hell he was sharing _his_ fucking birthday cake. The rest could go buy their own after practice. Speaking of which…

"What the hell do you think you're all doing gawking! Outside, now! Time for some drills!" Demonic grin in place, Hiruma led the way after stashing the rest of his cake in the club freezer. It was implicitly understood that no one should touch it.

* * *

…**And -1 for Ishimaru:**

"No, it's okay, I don't mind."

"You can all go on without me, I don't mind being left alone."

"It's really not a huge problem for me, I'm used to it."

Ishimaru was having what would have been a bad day by anyone else's standards, but what counted as an average day for him. Only three doors had been opened into him, and only five of his classmates had wondered where he had gone when he was sitting next to them. In the same desk he had been for the entire year.

Yep, just another normal day.

Except… What was that? Something shiny was wedged in between the trash can and the wall. Ishimaru decided to investigate. Ah.

It was a gun.

No wondering where it had come from, anyone who went to Deimon could tell you who it belonged to. Had Hiruma dropped it? That was careless. This was an issue though, someone could get hurt.

Ishimaru sighed and loosely picked up the offending weapon between his thumb and pointer finger, trying to touch it as little as possible. He really, really didn't want his fingerprints on here. The track runner began walking towards the American football clubhouse.

Someone jostled him from behind, walking past him without an apology despite the fact that they had run into him and that he was holding a gun. The student glanced back with a sneer, some trite comment (Watch where you're going next time) dying on his lips when he saw the weapon. His face paled so much his lips turned blue.

Ishimaru grew concerned and not a little thoughtful. Was someone actually going to pay attention to him without another person pointing him out? Could this forgotten piece of metal be the answer to his-

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! It's a floating gun! Run for your lives, everyone, there are _ghosts_!"

Oh. Guess not.

Ishimaru sighed again and continued his trek to Hiruma's lair.

Just another normal day.

* * *

I wanted to try my hand at the whole 5 +1 thing going on, and this is what happened. It was fun, I might do another later.

About Yukimitsu, I'm not actually sure if he's class rep or not. Usually in manga the smart ones end up in that position if said position isn't wanted by the protagonist (or if the protagonist is smart), so I just assumed he would be.

Reviews are like hugs. Hug me.


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